I Had A Pit Bull
by Blind Spot
Summary: The Hoverboard Girls mistake Marty Jr. for his dad after they lose the Pit Bull. Backstory included on Marty Sr. as well. [Rated PG for a few cuss words.] CHAPTER 3 (FINALLY) UP.
1. An Unlucky Day

**AUTHOR NOTES:** In the BTTF universe we see on-screen, this technically didn't happen. It takes place after the events of Part 2 (with 17 year-old Marty Sr. being there, Griff being arrested, etc), but because Old Biff stole the time machine, it would've become 2015-A, then Eastwood Ravine 2015.

However, assume Doc & Marty had gone to November of 2015 on the way to pick up Jennifer in Hilldale. This is the future (in my universe) that would've happened.

Even though this is just a finny, and short story for me -- probably less than 5,000 words total -- I'm still putting the same effort into it I would with the others.

****

**…..**

October 22nd, 2015.

12:30 P.M.

Hill Valley, California.

Marty McFly Jr. sat in his afternoon history class at Hill Valley High, half-asleep and bored as usual. It wasn't uncommon for the teen to lose interest easily. He was even worse than his dad was at his age. The topic of the day was _Historical Transportation._

"…And in the late 1990's," began the hip looking teacher, Scott Miller, a man in his early 40's. "When hovercars began to go into production, trains became even less frequent than they had been before, to the point of near non-existence. Ever since the dawn of the 20th century, the advent of the automobile had slowly decreased the usage of trains and locomotives."

_Who would ever want to ride those things? No wonder people stopped. They're noisy and you don't have the radio or the hover controls to yourself._

Thinking fast, he reached into his compact, futuristic backpack and pulled out his 6-channel TV glasses. So many students, and people close to his own age wore them, so he assumed nobody would notice. He had his other classroom DVD's out in front of him, as well as a computerized notepad, so he sat back in his char, attempting to relax until the bell rang. Since it was the afternoon, not much was on, except some talk shows old reruns of sitcoms like _Seinfeld, The Simpsons,_ and _Frasier_.

_At least if I'm gonna watch old stuff, it's TV and not schoolwork._

Not more than 10 minutes passed, however, before the teacher noticed he wasn't even attempting to pay attention.

"Mr. McFly, are you hearing what we're talking about? It's not cool to ignore us old folks, ya know?" said Mr. Miller; himself using more slang than would be expected. This _was_ the future, though.

Hearing a faint voice from outside of TV Land, MJ reacted, "Oh, I'm sorry Mr. Miller. I heard all the stuff you were saying, I-I swear," he said in a wimpy, high-pitched tone as he often did. It was clear he was fibbing. "You just weren't loud enough," he said, attempting to be the class clown as he always did.

"Come on, I doubt that. When I was in school, if I wanted to doze off, I'd at least take a few basic notes to make it look like I was paying attention. Dude, you could at least thumb a paragraph of information before turning your brain off," he said, more serious than normal. He rarely got angry, having earned the liking of most students. However, even he had run out of patience with Marty Jr.

"Geez, no wonder. You got your TV glasses on. You can have these back at the end of the day. I think you need to pay Grandpa Strickland a visit," he said, with all the students laughing.

"O-okay," MJ said, trotting down the hallways. They still had lockers for all the students, only modified for the times. Rather than needing a key or a combination to unlock them, you could thumb it or scan it with an electronic card. He had to take an elevator to the 5th floor to see the vice-principal, whom everyone referred to as Grandpa now.

Knocking on the door of the aged disciplinarian's office, Marty Jr. came in slowly, not liking what might lie next.

"You s-ssslackers are up to no good!" the bald man said. He was now 98 years old, but had not one, but two good rejuvies, keeping him looking just about the same as in 1985 and even 1955. "Mr. Miller told me you had your TV glasses on in his class. Lord knows what those are, but you look at them when you're away from school or you're going to end up a failure!"

"Yes sir, but I've-I've only done it once or twice before. Besides, I'm worried about stuff at home. My mom is always getting tranqed, and my dad lost his job yesterday night, and-"

Mr. Strickland cut him off. "Yes, and that's how slackers are. You're just like your father and your grandfather when they went here. At least your grandpa had enough sense to turn his life around and became an author of some science fiction nonsense. Your father, however, is still a slacker. I always thought your mother was cut from a better cloth than he was, but she had to go marry him. He's lucky he held down that job as long as he did. Now, you're to stay in this office until school is dismissed!"

Time clearly hadn't mellowed the man's ways of thinking. For the next hour and a half, MJ had to sit in the boring office until the rest of school was let out at 2 P.M. In the future, material could be covered slightly quicker than in his dad's time.

However, today was even worse than normal. He couldn't help but spend the time wondering who a mysterious young man was yesterday. A teenager dressed and looking almost exactly like he was, taking his place and standing up to Griff. _I know it wasn't dad 'cause he wasn't old enough, unless he got a d-mn good facelift or a mask and took it off before he got home. Maybe when school is out, I'll go back to the Cafe 80's and ask if somebody knows who he was. _

The promised time of 2:00 came eventually. Retrieving his TV glasses back at Mr. Miller's classroom, he set off for the Courthouse Square.

**…..**

Meanwhile, 10-year-old Brianna and her 11-year-old friend, Lindsay, exited the Texaco shop's convenience store and were walking near the Café 80's.

"Ah, come on, Bri. What are you being such a ziphead today for?" asked Lindsay.

"You know why! That clown who ran into the courthouse left his Pit Bull behind and mom had to find it and take it away. She said I can have it when I'm older, but where am I gonna get another one for free before I'm 16?"

As if to answer the question from out of nowhere, they spotted a figure that looked familiar to them. Without saying a word, both girls approached the clumsy teenager.

"Hey, you!" Brianna said.

MJ looked as he continued walking, accidentally banging into the very phone booth he had used to call Griff in yesterday afternoon.

The girls stifled giggles as he said, "Me?"

"Yeah. You took my hoverboard yesterday when you were running from those guys. You said you'd gimmie it back," the dark-haired girl continued, clearly the talkative one of the group.

"Um, ummm, hoverboard? I-I don't think that was me. It was some other guy that looks like me. I-I don't know how to ride one, but my father tried to show me with an old wheeled-skateboard once_._," he said, setting his bag of schoolwork down and walking closer to them, albeit slowly and carefully. He wondered why he was afraid of girls half his age, but he just was.

"We're not that stupid, okay? Besides, how many guys do you think there were dressed exactly like you here yesterday?" said Lindsay, covering for her friend.

"Yeah, shut up, ziphead! I want it back!" Brianna demanded.

"I'm really sorry, little girl, but I don't know where your hoverboard is. I don't even know how to ride one."

Getting madder, Brianna took back over, saying, "That's just what you called me yesterday too. Twice. I'm not little, I'm 10! That's double digits. Of course, you look like too much of a lobo to know what those are."

_Whoever that guy was taking my place must've taken her board, now she thinks I'm him and wants it back. Who was he and why was he tranqed enough to do that? I better just pretend to be him now, like was doing._

"Okay, okay, it was me. I just kinda gave that board to my, umm, little cousin. I didn't wanna say that 'cause I can't get it back so easily," he muttered. "I'll get you another one, just please be nice," he said before trying to run away. Brianna, however, grabbed him from behind.

"Listen, you got until tomorrow to get me another one then. 2:30 here, okay?" she said, barely able to contain her laughter. Normally she wasn't mean like this, but was able to tell how much of a wimp this guy was and was taking every advantage of it.

"Yeah, don't worry, it's gonna be a nice one," MJ said, now sprinting off, almost running into a couple pedestrians. "Sorry, sorry, I gotta get through. It's an emergency or something, low-res…" he continued, voice disappearing into the distance.

In his haste, he had left his schoolbag of homework DVD's behind. Smiling, the girls walked over to it and noting an address on it, reading:

_McFly, Martin Jr._

_3793 Oakhurst Street._

_Hilldale, Hill Valley, California._

"I've got a plan," Brianna said, both of them snickering evilly.


	2. Stopping In

5:00 P.M.

"Mom," Brianna called, innocently as possible, as she came into the living room. "Lindsey and I were out downtown today and we found some teenage guy's school stuff. Could you take me over there to drop it off for him?"

"Listen, Brianna, I'm kinda tired, okay? Besides, after I caught you with that Pit Bull yesterday, I don't know if I should take you on any joyrides for awhile," 40 year-old Susan Schwartz said, a little irritated.

"I just thought those lobos aren't gonna use it if they got busted. Sorry."

"I told you, you can have it when you're 16. Maybe sooner, if you're responsible with a regular Mattel one like you already have," she said, not knowing about her giving it to a young Marty Sr. yesterday. "Anyway, how do you know where this older boy lives?"

"His address was on the bag," she said, again masking a smile. "Here it is, if you want to see."

Taking Marty Junior's futuristic backpack, she indeed saw the address. "Hilldale is almost four miles from here, young lady. I had a hard day at work. Besides, look at what his I.D. says. _Date of Birth: May 21st, 1998._ He's 17, so I'm sure he's able to come out here himself, or at least get someone else to pick it up for him," Susan said, sitting back down.

"Mo-ooooo-m," Brianna cried, figuring she still was barely young enough to get away with the cute little kid voice. "I just thought it would be nice if we, I don't know, surprised Martin by bringing it back."

_Come on, that's really low rez. You gotta think of a better one!_

Sighing, her mother began to relent. "Okay, Bri. I need to relax and have dinner. We can go out there after the skyway clears up a bit. I still don't know why you're so insistent on this, though. Normally, you yourself would've just said, 'Let's just call him and get it over with'."

The young girl was at a loss for words. "Umm, well, I guess I was just in a different mood today."

Susan happened to notice the teen's picture with his I.D. and had a sudden realization.

"Ohhh, I bet I know why you wanna go out there so badly," she said, her demeanor suddenly changing. Now grinning and teasing her daughter as if they were girlfriends, she insisted, "You think this guy is cute, don't you?"

_Oh, God, mom. I'm not even old enough to date, and even if I was, he's such a whiner crybaby and is afraid of me. Why would I wanna go out with someone like that?_

"Not really, I don't think. I'm only 10."

"That's okay, hon. I have a little story to tell," she said, taking a breath. "Way back in 1985 when I lived in Lyon Estates, I was selling girl scout cookies. You know that old famous science fiction author, George McFly? He and his family lived in this one house. Anyway, his son, who I now know is Martin Jr's dad, answered the door and bought a box from me. He made small talk with grandpa more than me, but I still thought he was so hot."

I guess that's kind of a cool story, but I'm not trying to visit this guy's son to crush on him. I just want another hoverboard off him! Nobody will ever know, either.

**…..**

****

7:15 P.M.

47-year-old Marty McFly Sr. sat in his den. He was depressed as ever, after getting fired from his job by giving in to his childhood inability to say no to being called a 'chicken.' According to his parents and everyone he knew, his "other self" pre-October 25th, 1985, reacted to the same thing, just as "he" remembered doing in the world he originally came from.

Still, despite obvious similarities, that didn't make it any easier having to start from scratch at 17 years old, not knowing which memories to believe anymore, and having to be an actor in his everyday life.

_Jesus Christ. Sometimes I wish I'd never gotten in that damn time machine and gone to 1955! I almost think the world would've been better if dad had stayed a pushover and everything else. At least I wouldn't have had a truck to get into that accident with. I'm still kinda mad Doc wouldn't let me prevent that, but what about losing my job now?_

As the older man's aging, depressed face grew even sadder, he continued doing the one thing that made him at least somewhat happy in life: Music. He was now trying (albeit quite out of tune) to play the opening guitar notes to a 70's hard rock classic called 'Radar Love' as his wife, Jennifer, walked into the room.

"Marty," her slightly tranked, spaced-out voice began. "Are you still trying to play that song? Dinner is-sh almost ready. Just another 12 seconds or so."

"Yeah, but I'm not in the mood, Jen. I'm not in the mood for anything, except kickin' Needles' ass like I should've done 30 years ago. Where am I gonna get a decent, good paying job at my age anyway?"

_At least he can thank me for knocking out his missing tooth back when I was 14. In the original world, at least. Obviously it happened here too. I wonder if my other self already took care of that too._

"But, Marty. You can't do that. I'm sure he'll do something himself to get fired too. You can find another job, don't you think?" his wife said, still not totally sure of herself.

"You know what I gotta do? I gotta pay Doc a visit. I haven't seen him in awhile. Times like these I wish I still had that time machine of his," he said, before realizing his slip. _Oh, shit! Nobody knows about those. Please, Jenny, I hope that went over your head. That'd be way too heavy duty for me to tell you about now._

"Time machine? Marty, are you all right? What's a time machine?" came her somewhat high-pitched and utterly confused reply.

"Sorry, hon. I was just kinda thinking what if there were. 'Cause, I'd like to use one now," he said, feeling like he did as a teen back in the old world, when he tried to get out of trouble. "I'm heading over there. Be back in a couple hours."

**…..**

****

18-year-old Marlene McFly impatiently paced in the upstairs hallways, waiting for her date to arrive. _He called me on my video glasses half an hour ago. I know the hoverbuses are still running every ten minutes. He's not working today, so why isn't he here yet?_

For the past few weeks, she had begun going out with 22-year-old William Herschel, a fellow worker at her JFK Drive Burger King. On the surface, they didn't have that much in common, besides being co-workers and being almost the same age. He was retro and liked the 80's and 90's. She was much more trendy. He was definitely cool, but nice and reserved. She was wilder and took risks. But, as an old 1980's song said, as well as Marlene herself: 'Opposites Attract'.

Marty Jr. came barreling up the stairs not looking where he was going.

"Hey, what are ya doing? There's nothing on TV and dinner is almost ready."

"There's more to life than TV, bojo. Billy is gonna be here any second. I know you and he have stuff in common, but try not to embarrass me in front of him for too long."

"O-kayyyyy, but maybe he'll help me talk to those girls I see in the Café 80's who always ignore me. He's the only one from school who goes there that I know of."

Just at that moment, the doorbell rang throughout the house.

_"Door-bell is ring-ing,"_ called the computerized voice, which Marty Sr. had just fixed himself that morning.

Lightly pushing her brother out of the way, Marlene dashed down the stairs, where the door was. "Yay. He's here," she joyfully called. Opening it up, the look quickly faded away.

"Oh, hello. Can I help you guys or something?" she said, suddenly disappointed and even mad that her date wasn't the person outside.

"Yeah, is there a Marin McFly Jr. here?" a dark-haired woman said. "My daughter found something of his and just wanted to bring it back."

"Oh yeah, let me go get him," Marlene said at least slightly warmly, walking back upstairs. "Martin, the door is for you. Some little girl found your school stuff," she said, now out of hearing range.

"Somebody's here for me! Yeah, okay, I'm comin'," he said, running down the stairs, two or three at a time to look cool.

Seeing how much of a goofball the teen looked like (a far cry from his dad 30 years before), Susan sighed and said, "I'm gonna go wait in the car. See you in a minute."

"Hey, cool, thanks for finding my-" he suddenly cut off and backed away a bit. "Oh no! How-how'd you find out where I lived?"

"It was on your school bag, bojo," the girl began, fairly commanding. "Now, my mom took away my Pit Bull, so I want you to get me another hoverboard since you don't' have my old one anymore," Brianna continued, clearly having fun bossing around an older person as if he were her child. She couldn't help but laugh at how wimpy he was to be afraid of someone her size.

"How long do I have, and, what happens if I don't? Are you gonna ground me," he asked, laughing, wondering if she'd give up. That was as close as he'd come to standing up for himself, unfortunately.

"What happens if you don't?" the preteen girl said, smirking. "How about this?" she said, charging the teen and made a move to kick him before purposely, yet barely missing.

Remembering what Spike had done the day before, he bolted up the stairs a bit, shrieking like a girl himself. "O-o-o-okay. Whatever you want, I'll get one now. W-what-what kind?" he said, even more nervous than when Griff accosted him. At least he considered himself to be friends in his own odd way with the foursome, but he was truly afraid of this pint-sized terror.

"Just something pink or girly, and something that works good. Remember, tomorrow, 2:30, okay?" she said, turning to leave, thankful that no one else in the house had seen this taking place.

"Yeah, okay," he said, retreating up the stairs at a normal walking pace. He mumbled to himself "Ever see Trixie in _Problem Child 2_?"

"What was that?!" Brianna asked.

"Umm, n-nothing. Just leave me alone, little girl! I-I mean big girl! I'll get your board tomorrow," he said, now upstairs and praying she'd just leave. Luckily, for him, she did.

The teen went back toward his room, only to notice his sister giggling uncontrollably in the background.

"Marlene. I didn't know you were watching that. What's so funny?"

"Sorry, I don't mean to, but that was so hard not to laugh at. You're so afraid of this 10-year-old girl like she's gonna win a fight against you or something. Why don't you just tell her to nump off?"

"Yeah, I know, but I-I can't."

"Look what Grandpa George did with Griff's gramps. Remember all those stories he told us from when he was our age, about how scared of the big-headed bojo he was? If he really did bonk him out like he says, you can say no to some girl who hasn't even gotten into Jr. High yet," his sister said, teasingly but truthfully.

Less than a few minutes later, the doorbell rang again. Marlene figured this had to have been her date. Rushing to the door and, this time, peeking out, she saw it indeed was.

"Oh, hey cutie," she said.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" he said casually. "Is it okay if I come in?"

"Well, I'm just about ready, but sure," she said. "My dad left, but everyone else is here."

Stepping in slowly, the young man was more revealed in the light. If a time traveler from the past had only ran into him while in 2015, they may not think the fashions were much different. He had long, Bon Jovi-ish hair (but slightly more tame) as well as ripped jeans and a T-shirt covered by a plaid shirt. In all honesty, he looked from the 80's (and talked like it too)! For the meantime, he sat on their couch and watched a bit of what was left of their scene screen.

At this moment, Jennifer came into the front living room area.

"Oh. Hi, Billy," she said, rather slowly, evidence she was still a bit tranked.

"Hey Jennifer. Nice to see ya," he said, before pausing and casually asking, "What happened to your guys' TV?"

"Oh, Marty doesh-doesn't wanna get-get it fixed 'cause the last guy who came in here. He thought the man called him a chicken. Did I say a chicken?" she asked out loud.

The guy just shrugged it off, having heard many times over about the older Marty's hatred of that word. "Maybe it just brings back bad memories, that's all. What's exactly wrong with it? I know a little about electronics. I could give it a gander."

"A gander? Oh yeah, a look. That's nice of you, but I don't really know-know how, fixable it is," the middle-aged woman said, again stumbling over her words.

"Okay, Bill, I'm ready. Are you?" called his date slightly anxiously from next to the front door.

"Sure, I'm comin'," he said. Turning back to his potential girlfriend's mother, he said, "We're going to 80's night at this club tonight. I'm obviously dressed for that," he said with a friendly laugh. "I'll see you shortly."

"Oh, okay. That sounds great. Have fun, kids!" Jennifer called.

**…..**

****

7:40 P.M.

Marty Sr. approached the Palm Tree Retirement Homes on JFK Drive, not far from the Lone Pine Mall, or where the scientist himself used to live in his garage. After marrying one of Marty's teachers at his Junior College, Laura Clayton, in 1990, he moved out of his former mansion's garage, where it was later torn down.

Entering the building through two automatic sliding-glass doors, the middle-aged man went up to the front desk.

"Yeah, Emmett Brown's room, please," he said into the automated system.

_"Di-a-ling num-ber. One mo-ment,"_ said the computerized voice.

Within a few seconds, the videophone rang in Brown's room and he picked up.

"Hello," came the raspy, yet aged voice.

"Hey, Doc, it's me," Marty said, a little unhappy. He, too, sounded a far cry from his younger, teenaged self.

"Marty. Nice of you to come here. What prompted you to stop by?" the ex-scientist said, a little closer sounding to the Doc he knew and loved.

"It's kind of a lot. Mind if I come to your room?"

"Certainly not. I'll be waiting patiently."

"Alright, be right in," Marty said, closing the connection.

He began walking through the somewhat busy housing center. It looked nothing like the retirement homes of his youth. Many of the seniors' wheelchairs were electronically powered, as were their health care devices. Every light in the place was an updated version of _The Clapper_; where all you had to do was say "On" or "Off" to do the action. There was a 60' flat screen projection TV in the recreational area, and even a collection of cool, older movies he liked. In fact, the TV station was even tuned to _Dukes of Hazard_ at the moment, much to the enjoyment of "modern" senior citizens.

However, no matter how advanced technology became, there were still needs for human beings to take care of. He noticed a few orderlies walking around, more relaxed than he'd normally have seen in his time. One of them was causally chatting with the residents.

After turning left of the entrance and going up a staircase, he went down a large hallway for a few doors, before reaching Room #176. His friend had jovially pointed out, when he was admitted here, back in 2012, that this number was 88 x 2. _Even at my age, I'd have never figured that out on my own, Doc!_

Knocking briefly, he said, "Yo, Doc."

"It's open, come on in, Marty."

"Hey. Nice place. Sorry, I haven't stopped by for some time."

Doc turned up the lights in the room enough to clearly illuminate him. At 95 years old, his health was notably declining and he was walking and overall functioning slower than he had in the 1980's. He had not been rejuvenated, as was common in the modern-day among older people. There was still a bit of spark to him, though, especially when he was pushing a century old.

"Welcome in, Marty. Nice to see you," he said, as if it was 1983 and he was inviting the kid into his garage. Great Scott. He's still a kid to me, even though he's now 47 years of age.

"Yeah, you too."

"How's the family?"

"Not so good. Junior almost got in some trouble with Biff's idiot grandson, Griff, yesterday. Jen is always getting tranked. Marlene is going out with someone, who, although he's a really nice dude and likes a lot of my music and all, I just can't quite seem to like him. Worst of all, I got fired from my job last night!"

"Fired? What occurred to make that happen?"

"Me, that's what! I listened to that jerk, Needles. Then The Jitz comes on. He must've been monitoring it and Needles set me up. I know I was stupid to give in, but I can't help it when someone calls me 'Chicken.' Man, I just hate that!"

"It's been that way ever since I've known you. I realize you have a strong willed disliking to the word, partially because of your original father, but he no longer exists. You can't lose your temper over a word. Knowing Mr. Needles, he probably wanted to see if you'd pass his idiotic test. Why give him that satisfaction?"

"I don't know. I'll just start looking for other jobs in the morning," he said, not wanting to talk about his weakness anymore, before moving on to a new subject. "Speaking of my dad, you know what it's like having these mixed memories for the last 30 years? I mean, sure, at first I was gladder than hell that my loser family was replaced by people who actually got along, and parents that were cool. But, even now, someone will talk about something this other me did before 1985, and I'm totally lost."

"I myself, have to admit, I've wondered what my life was like where I didn't meet you in 1955. How different did certain events in my life transpire and what was the same? Therefore, as I've stated, I know it's not easy for you, Marty," Doc said, still, after more than 30 years (well, technically 60), ready to lend an ear to his friend's concerns.

"Yeah, I know all that, Doc. I just, ya know, I wish sometimes that I'd never made that trip, other than to save your life. Let mom and dad stay losers so I didn't screw up my life this way! I don't know, what if I just went back to 1955 now and stopped myself from saving dad from my grandpa's car?"

Doc suddenly jolted up, even more than he had been, as if to lecture his friend, like old times. "Jules has that ancient DeLorean time machine now," he said, referring to he and Laura's 24-year-old son, whom he had named after his favorite author, Jules Verne. "He's not as educated in time travel as I am, but even he would advise against that. I know how you feel. However, who is to say that something else catastrophic wouldn't have happened later in your original history?"

"I guess it could have, but it's worth a shot. From all I've told you through the years, and what you saw in 1955, how do you think 2015 from that world would be like? What about parallel universes? Maybe it's still around somewhere," he said. It was apparent that being around Doc so long was beginning to increase his 4th dimensional thinking!

"My views on time travel, suggested by all we know, including your family photo erasing in 1955 before your parents kissed lead me to believe there's only one universe at a time. However, whatever you do, please don't make unnecessary trips through time, such as this."

Getting desperate, he continued, "Come on, if it doesn't work out, I'll stop myself from coming across my 17-year-old self so we'll be back in this time."

"I haven't tampered with the space-time-continuum in that car in over 10 years, and even that was simply to make a small errand to the future. Please, do not attempt to muck around in time for your own benefit, Marty."

"I'm sorry, Doc. It's the only way."


	3. Trouble All Around

October 23rd, 2015.

9:30 A.M.

_"Wake up. The time is now nine-thir-ty A.M.,"_ came the voice of the computerized alarm clock in Marty Junior's room. The 17-year-old stirred a bit before groggily coming to.

_"Wake up. The time is now-"_ the clock tried to continue before its owner reacted.

"Yeah, I'm up. Shut off, please," he said, now realizing the time. _Oh no, the school hoverbus is gonna be there in five minutes. I think I gotta go._

His school bus arrived at 9:20 A.M. (conveniently right at the entrance to HillDale), but in typical McFly fashion, he had been late and slept through it. The 4-mile trip took 40 minutes because of all the detours to pick students up at different stops. He knew he'd better book it to make the city bus and not be late. He certainly didn't want 'Grandpa Strickland' to give him an even worse punishment than yesterday. However, nothing could stop him from quickly trying to comb his hair the old-fashioned way and trying to look good for any girls at school.

Running downstairs and into the kitchen, he took a dehydrated set of Pop-Tarts out of the cabinet, before putting them in the family's Black & Decker hydrator. "Umm, yeah, Level 1."

Within seconds, he was grabbing his breakfast on the go without even bothering to close the door. As he got a large Pepsi Perfect bottle from the refrigerator, his father came into the kitchen.

"Hey, son. Late for the bus again, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess they couldn't wait long enough," the teen said, sarcastically.

Sometimes, the older Marty would get frustrated with his son's smart-aleck comments, but buried beneath the depressed, grumpy man he appeared to always be, he still found it funny as he would've when he, himself, was 17.

"You're really a smart-ass sometimes, ya know that? But, it kinda reminds me of David Lee Roth's sense of humor," he said, knowing that one of the few personal things he had in common with his son was both of their love for the 1980's. _I guess it's not hard to see why. This is basically a futurized 80's anyway. I'd have thought this was too heavy if I ever time travelled here from 1985._

"Oh yeah. Now I-I just gotta get a girlfriend, so I can say I wish they could be California Girls. Ya know?"

"Yeah, yeah, it'll happen someday. You're a good-lookin' guy, you just gotta be calm and cool about it like I was. Anyway, maybe you can still get to school. I'd drive ya, but I do a couple job interviews on the videophone soon, and Marlene already left for work," he said, before slightly sarcastically adding in, "After her ten-hour date. When does the next city bus get here?"

"9:37 or something. Time is going faster than Big Ben on the Scenery Channel," he said, another lame, nonsensical (and backfired) attempt at a joke.

"Alright, you better haul ass! I was always late too, but you better not make Grandpa Strickland pissed! See ya after school," said his dad, looking around, still bitter and depressed.

"Oh yeah, later," MJ said, running out the front door.

The street on this neighborhood was busier than the time traveling 1985 Marty Sr. and Doc (which didn't happen in 2015 Marty Sr.'s history) had seen. People were getting in their hover cars, and a few into old-fashioned vehicles, bound for work. In the future, school and work both started later and ended earlier, usually. In MJ's haste, he accidentally tripped over a pile of garbage packed up near a dumpster off to the side of the little sub-street.

"Ahh, stupid bags and boxes," he muttered loudly, even kicking one of the old crates into the body of the dumpster, much to the amusement of a few neighbors. He continued running off and turned left out of the main entrance of his large townhouse complex.

The bus stop was half a mile away, down the four-lane suburban road. Unlike in 1985, when it was mostly an empty field across the street, the space was now occupied with a large shopping center with a slamball court, an indoor miniature golf course, and even a few nightclubs. At this hour, it wasn't that busy, but many shops were open 24 hours.

_Too bad I can't go in there instead of going to school,_ he thought, increasing his speed. With most cars flying over him, he simply ran in the middle of the old-fashioned road, since the bus stop would eventually be on the opposite side of the street than the one facing his house. He also had the awful habit of looking down or all around him when he walked, instead of right in front of him. As a result, he failed to notice an oncoming car honking their horn.

"Yo, kid! Get out of the street!" yelled the male driver with no reaction. "What's your problem, maxhole!?"

Still paying it only the slightest gander of attention, MJ had no idea that comment was directed at him before the car skidded to a stop. Yelling an "Aaah" for a second, the clumsy teen made a move his father might've done at a younger age; he jumped on the hood and over the roof of the antique circa-1992 Ford Escort before running off the other side.

As he ran, he yelled back, "Why, why don't you just get a hover-conversion, bojo?"

Now, in even more of a hurry to get to the school bus on time, he crossed over to the sidewalk and increased his speed. Unlike his father, though, he wasn't in that good athletic or physical shape for his age. As the distance increased to around a quarter-mile from home, he began to visibly tire out, his too-large jacket sleeves flapping wildly in the wind, as he started huffing and puffing.

Reaching to a small button near the bottom of one of the front sides of his jacket, MJ tried the auto-adjust.

_"A-ttempt-ing to size ad-just,"_ said the computerized voice as MJ kept pushing it and fiddling with it, even trying to roll the sleeves up by hand.

_Stupid thing! How hard can it be to roll up? Mom coulda helped me with it too. I guess I should've asked._

Before long, came the answer. _"Size ad-just-ing fea-ture, bro-ken."_

The teen let out a disappointed moan before hearing something else in the distance that caught his attention.

_"Bus Line 303 to downtown Hill Valley boarding from HillDale stop. Eastbound 303, now boarding. Time is now 9:37 A.M."_

MJ heard the automated computerized voice operating in all public transportation vehicles in his time. The current stop would be announced twice, either to alert passengers of the location stop, or to people boarding at the last minute. The latter applied to MJ. Having been distracted by his jacket, he failed to even notice this until it was just about too late. The bus was still in its lowered position, letting passengers on and off. He saw the doors start to close and the vehicle heading vertically toward the skyway.

"Hey hey hey! You, st-st-stop that bus! I-I gotta get, umm, on it!" he shouted in a nervous stutter, running again in the most awkward, disheveled way possible. "Stop the bus, bojo!" he begged, now within earshot of the driver, but it was too late. His one ticket to possibly getting to school on time was shot as the vehicle ascended into the sky.

With a very little amount of cars on the ground, MJ ran to a suburban 1980's era house and frantically knocked on the door.

"Hey! Umm, anybody in there?" he said, continuing to knock as if he were banging on a set of bongo drums. "Open up, open up, please!"

A somewhat elderly man of about 75 opened the door reluctantly. "Hey, kid. Something the matter? What's all that knockin' about? The wife and I were just waking up."

"Yeah, a little. I just missed the stupid hover bus 'cause they were two minutes early," he said, fibbing. "And I-I just wanna know if you can get me downtown. I gotta get to school by 10."

"You woke me up for that? Kid, I thought this was an emergency or something!"

Beginning to have his grandpa's former self take over, he started to wimp out before being able to utter, "Sorry, but I just really have to get to school. If I don't, this mean old man; I mean, _old_ like older than you; he's gonna discipline me and I can't be late. I only got twenty minutes."

"So, you'll walk in during 2nd period and get a detention. Ain't that what teenagers still get these days? Even in my day I skipped school a bit. Bein' half-an-hour late by taking the next bus won't kill you."

"I-I guess it won't. Umm, well, thanks," he said, walking off confused.

Despite the old guy seeming relatively nice compared to how he could've been, as well as offering unlikely advice, he did think about that for a minute. _I never stayed home from school before, not unless I pretended to be stuffed-up _("sick") _when I was little. Strickland is gonna give me even more detention, and I can't make dad turn on the Atrocity Channel again. No matter what that old man said, I can't zink off _("skip school") _today._

And so began the 12-minute wait that seemed to never end.

**…..**

****

10:15 A.M.

_"Route 303, east. Now landing, Hill Valley High School. Route 303, now landing," came the computer voice as the bus descended towards the ground on the Landing For Busses Only line._

Before it was even finished landing, MJ said, "Door, open," and was about to jump a good eight feet or so to the ground as it was.

"Whoa, whoa, where do you think you're goin', fella? You can't be tranked enough to jump down that distance," the bus driver logically asked.

By this time, it was only about four feet off the ground, so he made the jump. "Sorry. Late for school!" the teen said, dashing off toward the front steps of the building. He barreled into a large student by accident.

"Whoops, sorry, I-I swear I really didn't mean it. You see, I was just-" is all he managed to get out before he was stopped in his tracks by fear. In front of him was one of the school bullies, 17-year-old Barf Tannen. He was Biff Jr.'s son and the cousin of Griff. Regardless of relation, he didn't differ from his family tree much. This wasn't a guy to mess with, although he was pretty tame compared to Griff.

"You just ran into the wrong guy this morning, McFly! Since you're in a hurry, this one is free, but if you schiffy up ("get out of line") again, you'll be sorry. Especially after causin' Griff to get framed!"

It was hard enough having one Tannen as a bully, but two would be enough to make anyone snap after awhile. He could only pray Griff would be arrested long enough to at least cause him to relax a little. He lost count of how many times he'd been tempted to make fun of the bully's first name, but pretty much the whole school knew better than to do that.

"Um, sorry, Barf. Can I make it up to you or something? Buy ya a Pepsi Free after school," MJ weakly offered.

"I was gonna steal yours at lunch anyway. Look, just don't be a lobo today and stay outta my face, and you'll be fine," Barf said, walking away slowly.

MJ resumed the speed of his running, nearly hitting himself on the double glass doors before thumbing the plate, which slid them open. As he ran clumsily through the updated and redecorated large school hallway, he was heading for his first class: math. He hoped he could slip in while everyone was engrossed in their work, though more than likely, he knew he'd just get a tardy. As he turned to make a right, now heading down the main hallway on the lower floor, he heard that all too familiar aged voice behind him.

"A little late this morning, aren't we, McFly?"

_There's no way out of this now. But, I guess I'll try._ The teen visibly got a bit nervous.

"Yes, Grandpa, I-I mean, Mr. Strickland. I'm really sorry. You know I really didn't mean it, I didn't. The bus just, umm, had a flat tire," he managed to utter cowardly, his mind still on the 1980's and old cars to an extent.

The disciplinarian knew something was up, as his own voice began to elude some sarcasm.

"And, where were you taking an old-styled bus that drove on the ground? Despite the slacker I know you are, even you are smart enough to know this entire school district has been using hoverbusses since the smog-and-exhaustion law was passed in 2008. A vehicle of that size using ground travel is either for emergencies or if the skyway is currently filled. And I highly doubt it was occupied at 10:00 in the morning, young man!"

MJ remembered what the friendly old man had told him, and did his best to stay with it. "I swear, Mr. Strickland, it was true. I took a city bus. Plus I thought rush hour is still going on now too."

"I might be able to believe the first part. But, there's almost no chance it would get a flat tire and be fixed this soon. I know the bus from your house leaves approximately 9:30 AM. Face it, sssslacker! Your story simply does not add up. I know all the ins and outs from your old man. If he was a student, I'd still give him detention if I could!" the bald, only slightly wrinkled large man continued.

"And I thought you would've learned from spending an hour in my office yesterday. Apparently not. Here's your 3rd tardy fingerprint in a row, McFly," he said, taking out a computerized fingerprinting kit, applying it to the teen. "Now, you had better promptly show up in your first morning class."

"Y-yes, sir" the teen said, still cowardly, walking away in a sloppy manner. He had so much to worry about right now, it seemed, that the hoverboard incident was almost pushed out of his mind.

**…..**

****

12:00 P.M.

Marty McFly Sr. walked up to the medium-sized ranch house near the Lone Pine Mall which Jules Brown was renting. He was a little apprehensive about going against his good old friend's wishes by asking to borrow a time machine, but he also had to think about every failure he seemed to have: His family wasn't even that close to him anymore, he was currently unemployed, not to mention thirty years of mixed memories was driving him nuts!

Knocking on the front door, Marty remembered the two young men had just gotten an intercom, as was so prevalent in this time.

Pushing it in, he called again, "Yo, Jules! You there? It's Marty!"

Before long, a voice came back, "Marty! What's happenin', dude? Just thumb the door, it's unlocked. Come on in," called the young man, before the static cut it off.

Sure enough it worked. Stepping inside the house, the middle-aged man looked around. It had been awhile since he was here, and not everything was matching up to memory. The living room was filled-up with electronics, leaving a limited room for furniture. It was mostly "party" stuff, such as TV's, all kinds of tape and DVD machines, modern boomboxes, and the like, mixed with inventions no unlike the young man's father often had in his lab.

This worried Marty for a moment. _With this mess, can this guy really give me a working time machine?_

Before long, the voice of the intercom, greeted his longtime older friend. "Hey, what's up? Sure has been awhile since you last came over to the place. How do ya like all this?" he asked, gesturing to all the cool stuff in his living room, most notably the new virtual reality gaming system, the Playstation 9.

"Oh yeah, looks far out. Junior only has as far as the PS 7, and he's got a lot to learn with that thing still," he said, slightly interested, but trying not to show he was impatient. "Hey, sorry to be all sudden, but I really have to talk to ask ya about something."

"Shoot," Jules said enthusiastically.

Breathing a deep sigh, he said, "Alright. Do you still have a time machine lying around here?"

"Uhh, yeah, dad entrusted me to take care of that DeLorean. He stopped using it around the time he met mom in 1988 and had me. Dad had that car reworked back in 2004. He last time traveled in it on September 30th. In tons of senses, it's only 11 years old. It's basically got all new parts from then," he said rather quickly before stopping to ask. "Just wonderin' though, why'd you wanna use it now? I've been tempted too, but I'm too paranoid I'd do something to screw things up."

"It's a long story. I told your dad about it last night, but, I'll get right to the point. My life sucks, ya know? I just got fired from my job because of some jerk I've known since middle school. I just wanna get the timeline back to where it was, like the 2015 where I wouldn't have gone to the 50's."

"Well, dad believes in something he's always telling me about, called the Self-Preservation Effect of the timeline, like the same kind of things happening on the same days in a new reality. Knowing that, what if you were gonna get fired yesterday night in the original timeline? How would all this change that?"

Marty had to admit, that was yet another new way of looking at it. "You might be right, but even if that me was fired, my life would still be a little better 'cause I couldn't have that goddamn accident. My old man's car got wrecked, so I'm sure I wouldn't have even been driving around Hilldale that Sunday. This Self-Preservation isn't going to get down to every remote detail, is it? Doc said it was more historical events and newspaper printings, stuff like that.

"I guess you could try it. Me, being close enough to be part of the natural timeline, won't even know if you change it. We'll all turn into our alternate reality selves, so it'll have always been that way to us. That's some freaked-out stuff, huh?" Jules said to Marty's surprise and almost laugher. He had to admit it was pretty contradictory to hear deep scientific talk mixed in with teenage-like slang.

"You're tellin' me," Marty said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Well, anyway, I'm gonna have to give it a little few tests first, to make sure everything is running smoothly. I haven't even driven it as a car for a few months.****

****


End file.
